I was, honestly, trying to be good about it. I figured if I could make it through the night, the next days would be better. But the party was loud, yelling, running through hallways, pounding on doors… at 11:45 I asked them if they would keep the door to the stairwell shut. At 12:10 I just started packing my stuff. I gave them back the key; it was clear they had no idea how to do a refund, so I said I’d be back in the morning. I found a motel not too much more expensive and finally unwound enough to go to bed. Or at least I fell asleep.
This morning I went to the hostel first. They said they had called the owner, but she wasn’t in yet, and didn’t know when she would be. I’m not willing to hang around all day waiting for this lady to show up. So I gave them my phone number and said to call me. Went for breakfast a dutch-type café place. Read a Canadian newspaper… lots of curling and hockey coverage. I so don’t get it. I was aiming to head out for Okanagan Mountain. There are signs for it from the main drag through town, Hwy 97, but I wasn’t sure which way. So I asked the waitress, and she has no idea what I’m talking about. She asks other waitresses. They also have no idea what I’m talking about. It’s a provincial park about 15 km south of Kelowna. It would be like if I hadn’t heard of Saltwater State Park. It seems… like it shouldn’t be too unknown. Then I remember it seemed like it was off of Pandosy on to Lakeshore and keep going. I know where Pandosy is, so I head out. All is going well to start with; the road gets narrower, more obscure, then hits a sign “no thru road.” This seems strange to me and I think I probably took a wrong turn. I go back to a cutoff and up the other road and it’s climbing – good sign for a mountain – but heads in to random housing developments. Despite it being 10 a.m., I passed Summerhill winery – one of the ones I wanted to go to – and it’s open from 9 a.m. to 9 p.m. So I think, hey, I’ll go there, they’ll know, and I’ll check off the winery.
I suppose I should realize with everything else, nothing is going to go according to plan.
I get to the winery (it’s 10) and the gate is closed. Being American I think maybe the road is slippery or something. There’s a lady in a car also waiting. Turns out she works for the winery and the guy who was supposed to open went home to get his key because he didn’t know he was supposed to open. In another 15 minutes or so it all gets sorted out, guy turns up, finds key, and we all go down. Summerhill has an astounding view over the river and is an all-organic winery with a lot of champagnes and some amazing (and pricey) ice wines. They have a pyramid they built at 1/80 scale of the great pyramids in Egypt. The woman explained to me that pyramids are a sacred shape along with domes and arches. Anyway, she talked about how in a pyramid, milk will not curdle. Meat petrifies, not putrifies. They cellar their wine there, and it is quite something. I can only carry so much, but the lady let me taste the ice wine for free and gave me a container to put it in – the only question is who would I drink such a spendy bottle with? I can’t even say what I paid because it’s quite embarrassing. As a complete and total aside, this article in Slate is amazing about a wine that by rights shouldn’t exist and sounds like it is mind-blowing and mind-altering to everything you think about wine.
Anyway, she has no idea what Okanagan Mountain is either. But I check my random wine maps in the car, and I think I just should have gone further on the “no thru road” sign – I wasn’t at the end yet. But how can you not know about a rather large park that is no more than 5 miles away?? Here’s perhaps the more bizarre part: I show her the big green area on the map. She says, “Oh, that’s not Kelowna.” Mind you, it is just past a sign for the Kelowna city limits. But she’s looking at Peachland, which is across the lake, and there’s no connection between them. I say, “but it’s on the east side of the lake.” She just looks confused. It reinforces my idea that there’s Kelowna… and then there’s everything else. Kelowna really isn’t isolated, but I think the people who live here have the perception that they are.
I am right, and get to the park, and hike up to a stunning view over the lake. The path isn’t great – icy snow that’s wonderful to slip on – no traction on my boots, at least not for ice. There is no one there. It’s completely quiet. I’m still wound up a bit, but at least I do appreciate the moment.
I decide to head back and shower and rest a minute before continuing my day. I send an email to the owner of the hostel as I haven’t heard from her yet. I’m not really hungry, so I eat the maple nut clif bar. It’s okay. There are better clif bars.
I head out to Gray Monk winery, making a shift in my thinking. I do love wineries, but I’ve done it enough to have a good sense of them, and am starting to feel that if you’ve done one winery, you don’t have to do all of them. I really like Gray Monk from years back, so I’m excited they are in the neighborhood, but I won’t hit any of the other ones on my list.
The way up is beautiful: you pass Wood Lake on one side, and it’s frozen enough there are ice fishers out there. It’s a sunny, gorgeous day today, only in the low 40s, though.
As per normal on this trip, I totally miss the turnoff, take a different way, and have to backtrack a few times to get where I want to go. I find the route they want you to take on the way out – and it’s not hard – it was just closer than what I was expecting, given the map.
Gray Monk is quite reasonably priced, I’m impressed – just about all their wines are $10 - $20. These days, that’s quite good. I get three more bottles and hope my suitcase will hold it.
About this point I get a call from the hostel. Not from the owner, but from Irma from Holland whom I met last night. She says they can do a direct deposit to my account, but they'll need my bank account number, my ABA, transit number... and I said no way. You can write me a fargin' check people. I will happily dispute the charges on my credit card. But ain't no way I'm giving them that information. Sigh.
I get back and figure I owe myself a decent, long walk. I’m not far from the nicer downtown part of Kelowna. Kelowna pretty much runs along the strip - Hwy 97 – and it’s not attractive. The scenery is lovely with all the hills around it – like Montana in minature – but Hwy 97 is as bad as any strip mall area in the U.S. Then there’s a “downtown” area near the lake that is much more homey and friendly. My hotel is maybe a half-mile or a little longer from here, so I walk it in. There’s a beautiful boardwalk/park area running along the waterfront, which I walk quite a ways… I don’t quite get to the end of it, but probably a mileish, and then on back. I sit at the end of a path on the water with a couple ducks who peck their way right up to me until they decide to take off for elsewhere. The sun is going low over the hills; the water is gorgeous; the lakefront, although not pristine, at least mostly reflects the park which is welcome relief. For probably the first time I just like where I am. It’s good. Nothing went wrong. It’s a beautiful, beautiful day.
I walk back to town and stop at a bookstore. One upside to hostels is that you can swap books, so I lost that chance. Fortunately, the bookstore has a discounted section – new books that didn’t sell - and I pick up a light-weight novel for $4. Excellent. I head for greek food for dinner – I didn’t really have a choice, I could smell it a block away and it pretty much sucked me right in. Yummmmmm.
I’m back in my hotel room – sad about not having anyone to hang out with, but it’s not to be this trip – but I have a book, curling on TV, and I’m looking forward to snowshoeing tomorrow.
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